Lost Princess
by EternalStarhaven
Summary: Legolas, several years after the journey across the sea, finds himself once again returning to Middle Earth at the request of Lady Galadriel. Seemingly on an impossible quest, to find the lost child of Galadriel's twin sister, he moves through the cities of men and dwarves, finding her only by chance when a legion of goblins and orcs surrounded and attacked.
1. Prologue

Prologue

* * *

She studied the Elven Prince of Mirkwood, almost 3,000 summers, and still alone. Unlike normal mortals, Elves lived incredibly long lives, passing on only when they grew weary and chose to re-join the stars in the sky. Legolas was young still, but he had matured more than most elves, having fought in the wars, and aiding in a quest that would have plunged the world into darkness if he had failed. All of them had been tested, and he alone had not been tempted by the ring that Frodo had carried, allowing himself to never touch or go near it. He had witnessed its affects on others, including Lady Galadriel.

There were plenty of elven maidens to choose from, and yet nothing awakened his desire to claim one as a wife. He had traveled across the see after Aragon's death, bringing with him his dwarven friend Gimli. It was true that those that came to the Undying Lands were granted immortal lives, but should they return to Middle Earth, they would assume their true age, and die. Suddenly a flash of sword against sword came to her, a she-elf facing an army of Orcs that chased her through mountain path ways. Alone and hunted, she fled, shooting her bow when given an opportunity, and slaying those that came to close. Was this a present day vision, or one of the future?

It was not uncommon for her to have visions of the past, present, or future; however, this one affected her in ways that left her shaking, pale, and tears sliding down her pale cheeks. Sensing her sorrow, a gentle touch on her arm alerted her to her husband's presence; "In a place safe from war and mortal matters; I sense that will soon come to an end."

Slowly, turning to her husband, she allowed herself a moment of grief and comfort, wrapping her arms around him. Startled at her rare display of public affection, Celebron waited for her to stop trembling, giving a heavy sigh and holding her. "What troubles you?" He finally asked of her.

"Celebron... Alatáriel, she's alive..." Everything in him went cold with horror. The races of Elves, despite their differences, were fully aware of the elven princess lost to them during the first age, her mother murdered by a pack of Orcs. The child had never been found, and the wars had brought their search to an early end. "The Orcs hunt her, joining forces with other fowl creatures."

"It will take us several months to gather our forces;" he tried to tell her, but she pulled back, and turned her gaze on the Mirkwood Prince.

"Our armies will take several months; however, this task will give purpose to a certain elf that needs one."

"It has been two hundred summers since our journey across the seas; is the taking of our people back to Middle Earth worth the risk of exposure to yet another war."

"You don't understand," Lady Galadriel whispered. "It is not the elf they want, but what she possesses. My sister never married, and she never spoke of the child's father, but the necklace given to her was not of the mortal realm. We cannot allow them to obtain that necklace, nor do I wish to lose yet another of my bloodline. I thought myself the last; it is necessary that we return and stop the darkness that threatens all of this world, not just the one of mortals."

"Are you certain Alatáriel lives, and this is not a vision of the past?" he whispered. His wife's visions were often shadowed and uncertain, but at times she saw them like the bottom of a lake when the water stilled and became clear.

"I've never been more certain of anything."

"Perhaps..." Celebron reluctantly admitted they needed to go after the lost princess; but did he entrust the last heir to the wild elves of Mirkwood. And yet Legolas has more than proven himself, and if he had to approve of anyone, he'd find no other worthy enough. He had a strong hunch that his father would approve of the match as well, refusing to allow any elf or mortal to marry his son without possessing noble or royal blood. "The wars have left him restless, and often he has looked back across the sea he has traveled."

_Prince Legolas..._ she mentally called to him. He paused, the sea foam brushing against his feet, and his hair blowing gently with the summer breeze. _I have a task, one that I cannot force, but is of great importance._

Legolas would have refused her nothing, and without question or complaint, he turned from the sea and made his way towards the castle. He found them in the throne room, the guards closing the large silver doors behind them after he entered. Standing near a mirror, Lady Galadriel glanced at him, and then back at the glassy surface. He had often heard tells of the mirror, showing more clearly what her visions did not. Close, but not interfering, was her husband Celebron, his expression mixed with sorrow and regret. Elves lived incredibly long lives, but he had to admit the strain on both their faces had him concerned.

Lady Galadriel waved her hand, Legolas moving closer to her and the mirror. "What you're about to witness and hear, no one must learn of, not even your father." He nodded, not sure why his father might have been a threat, but he'd hold his questions a bit longer. Gaze into the mirror and witness the events that transpire. Only then may you ask your questions and decide the path you will take." Her emotions were wilder than Celebron's; her eyes filled with fear and unshed tears. "I cannot say what you will see; the mirror does not always show the same vision to another."

Reaching out his hand, he touched the glass. At first nothing happened, and he almost pulled back when the room exploded in a light of silver and golden, like the stars in the skies that his people loved so dearly. An image of a she-elf appeared before him, with pitch, black hair and blue eyes, and then another behind her. The second person caused a gasp to come forth from Celebron, and his gaze flew to his wife, "Is that..."

"I had no idea..." If what the mirror showed Legolas was accurate, then the mission had become all the more critical. Not only did Alatáriel possess a necklace of great power, but also had ties to the former High Elven King of Noldor, Gil-galad.

Not having their knowledge, he continued to watch the mirror. The images shifted, and what he remembered of a green Middle Earth, was now nothing more than a waste land of decay, darkness, and death. Fire scarred the land, the mortals of all races had taken refuge where they could. Once again, the attention re-directed back to the she-elf, standing against the Orcs and acting as a shield between the enemy that wanted her dead and the mortals. Around her neck was a necklace of gold and silver light, flickering each time she fired an arrow at the massive army before her, or when she drew her sword and moved in for close quarter combat. "The power you witness is not of this world, neither good, nor evil. It possesses great power, infused with star and sun light. Depending upon the person that wields its power, it can either protect, or decimate everything in it's path."

"Who is she?" He whispered, unaware that he had asked the question allowed. In all his long years, he had never seen or found anyone that might interest him in spending the rest of his life with. Not only did he find himself mesmerized with each stroke of her sword, the way she gracefully employed her silver bow; Legolas also discovered he had a desire to protect and stand at her side. The she-elf stood alone, and if going to her wasn't his task, he'd curse Galadriel and Celebron for showing him this and her.

"The elf before you is of my bloodline, Princess Alatáriel. However, what was not known to us, was that she also had ties to King Gil-galad." Startled, he broke contact with the mirror and turned to them. He did not find this a joking matter, and their expression showed no signs of it, but rather a grave seriousness that sent a cold shiver down his spine.

"You're saying she's the rightful heir to the High Elves of Middle Earth? Gil-galad, to our knowledge, had no wife, nor child. If what you say is true, how do we prove what and who she is?"

"The necklace did not belong to my sister, but was given to her."

Lord Celebron spoke for the first time; "The one that might prove her lineage is Cirdan. He is not king of the High Elves, but he does govern them, and travels back and forth between here and Middle Earth. Cirdan is perhaps the oldest elf on Middle Earth, possessing much knowledge, and wisdom."

"What did you need?"

"It will take us time to gather our forces and return to Middle Earth; if you choose to accept, we ask that you travel ahead, stand at her side, and prevent the Orcs from obtaining that necklace or her. I don't think I need to explain the necessity of her survival. If she is his child, there's a chance she can re-unite all the races of Middle Earth and push back Morgoth."

He knew they regraded him with compassion and affection, but to trust him with something of this magnitude? Why? She had any elf, any guard to choose from, someone from the elves of Noldor and not of Teleri or Sindar decent. Gentle hands touched the sides of his face and had him look into a sea of blue. She was taller than him, Lord Celebron being the only one to match and exceed her height. "Have you no idea how we regard you?"

"I know you've accepted myself after my journey here, but I never questioned the why or reason."

"We see you like a son," Celebron spoke, "an Elvin Prince that possesses tremendous courage, strength, and compassion where others of Mirkwood might have turned their backs. We choose you, because not only of your skill with the sword and bow, but your un-canning ability to hunt and track the impossible. There is a possibility she will refuse your offer of assistance."

"I'm not giving her an option." The corners of Celebron's mouth lifted, the only indication of his amusement, and his approval of Lady Galadriel's request.

"Until our return, we ask that you take great caution. If necessary, seek refuge inside of your father's kingdom, but say nothing of Gil-galad. There are those that do not wish for a union of the elves, man, or dwarves."

"Is she so important that you'd forsake the safety of these lands to return?"

"We cannot allow the mortals to face Morgoth, nor will think no less of you should you decide to refuse this task."

Were they mad; there wasn't anything to keep him here after seeing her image, the way her skin glowed despite the dirt on her face. He had only seen a portion of her hair, but he could imagine the length and the way it might shine in the moonlight, and damn it if he couldn't get her out of his head. "Where do I find her?"

"She's making her way to Rivendelle. When the moon is full in two cycles, she will arrive at the passageways, but she is unaware that Rivendelle is abandoned, nor the trap that awaits. If they trap her in the passageway..." She needed to say no more, and Lord Celebron already knew the Elvin Prince's decision. He knew that look, the same one he had when he first saw Galadriel.

She gave her husband a soft smile, as if she to had noticed the lingering interest in Alatáriel. It was perhaps her, and not the necklace or her lineage that had him willing to risk his life, but Legolas also possessed a great heart, courage, and loyalty to those he considered his friends or family.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

* * *

She hissed in pain, an arrow finding it's target in her right shoulder. Ignoring it, she drew her sword and attacked with her one good arm, slicing through their numbers with ease. The Orcs rarely fled, but would throw everything at her in hopes of obtaining or killing her. And suddenly they stopped, blood sliding down her arm and dripping to the ground. A horn sounded in the distance and for a moment the lead Orc roared in rage, his evil eyes on the she-elf. The horn sounded again, and whirling his worgen mount around, he ordered their retreat.

Not wasting her time, she broke into a run, her shoulder throbbing. After a couple of hours, she came to a halt at a grove of trees, allowing herself a moment to sit and rest. Her breath came in gasps, and she had a strong hunch that they had pierced her with a poisoned arrow. "Cowards..." It explained why the lead Orc had finally agreed to leave her; they'd follow her scent and collect the necklace from her lifeless body.

It was times like this one where she felt truly alone, wishing for the comfort of her own people, and that she reflected on her past. The memories and nightmares plagued her, making it difficult to sleep for any length of time. The only link to her mother was the necklace around her neck, something she said to never allow to fall in the wrong hands.

Like her sister, Alatáriel's mother possessed momentary glimpses of the future. Sensing her approaching death, she had ordered Alatáriel to hide in the thick bushes, to say and utter no sound. Within minutes of hiding, a pack of Orcs and goblins surrounded and slew her, searching through her clothes and bags for the object her mother had placed around her neck. Screaming in fury, they began to search the area, getting closer and closer to the terrified elf child. The only thing that saved her was a patrol of men on horses riding through, easily cutting down the Orcs and Goblins stupid enough to stay.

The men covered her with a blanket and lifted her to the back of a wagon, speaking in a tongue she didn't recognize. Terrified, she remained hidden, crying silent tears as the men took her mother and disappeared. Alone with the setting sun, Alatáriel didn't move until the next morning, forced to find food and water. The summers passed, and as she grew older, she learned the skills of the sword and bow. The Orcs never stopped their hunt for her, and she had no choice but to avoid the places of men and dwarves, afraid that she endangered them to the very creatures that had killed her mother for what she possessed. How they had known her mother had a child with her, she didn't know, but there were no answers to her questions so she simply pushed them aside and focused on her own survival.

Alatáriel loved her people and homeland, so much so, that she had made a choice to never return. If they had murdered her mother, how many more would meet the same fate for something she had promised to protect. Alatáriel had only been ten summers that day, and like any child, she thought only of the protection of those she loved and trembled in terror at the thought of anyone else dying because of her. Instead, she became legendary with her use of the sword and bow, capable of making even a dwarf pause if she picked up an ax or staff.

She avoided contact with mortals; however, she never turned her back on those that needed her assistance. From the shadows she walked, and songs spoke of an elven maiden that struck her enemies with deadly accuracy and then returned to that darkness once more, silent and alone. Who was the elven maiden that traveled where no elf would go; that fought demons the mortals feared, with no thought of reward and thanks.

Alatáriel forced herself to focus on the present, the poison spreading throughout her body. She had noted a change in them, the dark creatures forming alliances with one another. These creatures hated each other as much as the men, dwarves, and elves hated the other. The numbers were growing and the search for her had intensified to the point that she no longer had any where to hide or run any longer. What was so important about the necklace that they'd brave the armies of humans, dwarves, and elves. Two centuries ago, most of the elves had vanished from Middle Earth, to where she didn't dare ask. Rumor spoke of the Elves in the Mirkwood forest, but she knew next to nothing about the Elves of Sindar descent.

Did her Aunt Galadriel and Uncle Celebron sill live? There had been so much death and war across the land, that she preferred not to dwell on the possibilities. A terrible evil had spread across Middle Earth, and they thought it destroyed, but she knew the truth. Death called to her, reaching for her, using the Orcs and Goblins to track and hunt while he remained hidden. Alatáriel needed to move, knowing they'd come after her soon, and joining them would be the trolls. Desperate and hurting, her eyes drifted towards the passageway of Rivendelle, only a day's run from her current location. Did she go? Did any of the Noldor or Vanyar elves remain? After nearly two thousand years of fighting and running, she didn't want to fight this battle alone anymore. Something controlled the Orcs, Trolls, and Goblins, but she didn't know what it was or why it needed the necklace.

She attempted to stand, but collapsed back against the tree, everything becoming a blur. To even lift her sword proved impossible, and she struggled to stay awake. A shadow fell over her, but instead of an Orc, it was like a dream just before someone's last moments of life. Despite his cloak, she knew he was an elf, with golden hair, and blue eyes. Very carefully, he lifted and placed her on his white horse, jumping up behind her and taking off. They were traveling away from Rivendelle and she wanted to protest, but she lost the battle to consciousness and knew nothing more.

* * *

He raced across the land, not certain if he'd make it to Mirkwood in time. The color of her skin had taken on an ashy tone, and her heart beat so light that he almost thought she had passed on several times times throughout the journey. He didn't stop to eat or drink, only long enough to provide his horse with water, and nothing more. "Just a little longer..." he whispered, hoping she'd hear him.

At last he saw the edges of his home, the woods taking up a 200 mile radius that people feared and with good reason. Throwing back his hood, he spurred his horse faster, hoping the archers would recognize his elvish features and not shoot. The final barrier were the gates themselves, a couple of younger elves standing guard. It was safe to assume they didn't know who he was, having been gone nearly two hundred years, and just as he was prepared to fight and apologize later, an unexpected voice rang out; "Lower your weapons!"

Why she had returned he had no idea, but he found himself grateful for Tauriel's presence. Rushing into the Elven city, he made his way to the center, dismounted, and gently held her in his arms. She wasn't moving, and her breath came so slow that he felt a vice grip wrap around his heart. He had yet to speak with her, and already he felt as if he had lost something important.

"Put her down, Legolas." He opened his mouth to protest, to demand the arrest of the idiot that would make him relinquish his hold on her, and then his vision cleared and Tauriel stood before him. "You trusted me long ago, and I ask that you trust me now." Reluctantly, he did as she asked, watching as Tauriel knelt and began to chant the ancient words of healing. He had no idea that she knew them, and then he remembered the dwarf that had almost died, the one that she had chosen over an elven prince.

Tauriel glowed with star light, her magic flowing into the dying she-elf. At first nothing happened, and then her skin became a healthy glow, the injury fading, and her heart beat growing stronger. The light faded and Tauriel trembled from the amount of power she had used; the girl had been so close to death; who was she and why did Legolas look as if he'd kill anything that might threaten to take her from him?

Gathering her back into his arms, he nodded to Tauriel; "Let my father know of my return; and Tauriel... thank you." Saying nothing further, he turned and left, taking Alatáriel with him. If anyone had questions, they kept them to themselves, the word spreading of his return like a wild fire.

* * *

Several days passed before she opened her eyes, and she glanced around until her gaze settled on the elf she had thought a dream. "You're real?"

"I'm not sure if I should say yes or no," he lightly joked. He seemed hesitant, and despite her normal habit of solitude, she found herself grateful for his presence none-the-less.

"Which do you prefer?"

"Which one let's me stay?" She tried hard not to laugh, but a small smile formed at the corners of her mouth regardless of her valiant efforts not to like him. Alatáriel had grown accustomed to never making friends or attachments, but she had a feeling that wasn't going to be possible this time, nor did she think she really wanted to anymore.

"It all depends," she teased, "is the dream or reality better?"

"Dreams only give so much to the imagination," he softly spoke, his eyes filled with an unfamiliar emotion that had her glancing away, terrified at the intensity he studied her with.

"Dreams don't die either..." she had no idea why she had said that, and suddenly he was standing over her, a gentle, but firm grasp turning her face to look up at him.

"As much as I wish to tell you that I won't die; you and I both know that is a lie. However, I will not allow it to come so easily, nor will I allow you to stand alone against the enemy that hunt's you."

"I've been alone for nearly two thousand years... Why now?" She didn't cry, but nor did she stare at him with hate or blame. Alatáriel simply looked tired, and his grip tightened when she would have turned away from his blue eyes.

"In their defense, Galadriel and Celebron had no idea you survived that day. Shortly after your mother's death the land erupted in war; the elves and mortals at war against Sauron and Morgoth."

Still exhausted, she started to fall back asleep. When he would have pulled away, she reached for his hand; "I apologize, but if you may; can you stay? The nightmares..." He nodded, pulling up a chair and watching over her as she slipped back into oblivion.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

* * *

Mistake number one: having looked in the mirror. He had thought her beautiful from her image alone, and he had not had the time to study her closer while he raced towards Mirkwood. Legolas, having shifted closer to her throughout the night, allowed strands of dark hair to slide through his fingers like the sand from the sea. The mirror had one her no service, her pale skin almost glowing in the low light in the room.

Several times he had tried to remove himself from her, to give the task of watching over her to his friend Tauriel. However, the promise he had made, mistake number two, kept him from doing so. There were legends of his people that spoke of a matched pair, two stars separated and destined to find each other. He had never believed in those types of legends, but he had to admit there was something painfully compelling him to keep close, as if the moment he turned away or gave her to someone else, she'd disappear or worse, die to the enemy that hunted her.

Mistake number three: not having been with a woman for close to three hundred years. Once, a long time ago, he had considered Tauriel for a wife, but his father had interfered and forced her hand and marriage to another. At first Legolas had been infuriated, but as time went on, he could not fault her for her fear. His father had no tolerance for defiance and often imprisoned or killed anyone foolish or brave enough to challenge his authority. Legolas, for the first time, knew he'd challenge his father for her. He doubted it would come to that, knowing the benefits his father might see due to her bloodline and birthright. It was crazy enough that this girl was kin to Lady Galadriel, but Gil-galad? The idea that he had one of the few remaining high elves next to him was almost too much to take in, and to think, she had been thought lost to them for nearly 2,000 years.

Whimpering, she moved closer against him, her entire body shaking in fear. She needed the sleep, but at the same time, nightmares did not afford one with effective energy upon waking. "Morgoth..." she whispered. Frozen, he stared down at her in open mouthed astonishment, and a growing dread that the enemy they faced was far stronger and more deadly than Sauron. Once an agent of good and purity, Morgoth had withered away at Sauron's soul until he became a force of reckoning himself. Was he doing the same to Princess Alatáriel?

Despite his confused feelings for her, he'd never allow something so evil to possess something so pure, not a second time, or while he drew breath. He had aided Frodo across the lands to destroy the Ring of One, and he'd help this brave girl that had tried taking on a legion of Orcs, Goblins, and Werewolves without the assistance of her people. Even as a child, she had only thought of the elves and mortals, drawing the danger after her instead towards the people that might have been able to assist.

And then, perhaps it was best. While Morgoth's forces were divided between the wars and this girl, it might have bought them the time they needed. What if the goal was to obtain the necklace and Alatáriel to use from the start? With the necklace out of his reach, he had sought the rings, and eventually the Ring of One to destroy Middle Earth. She started to struggle, fighting or running he didn't know.

It was foolish what he was about to do, and he had no idea if she might feel even close to what he was at that moment, but to watch her suffer, and his complete loss of sense when it came to her, he wrapped one arm around her, holding her body against his, while his free hand went to her chin and tilted it back. A single thumb brushed against her full, bottom lip, parting it slightly, and without thinking about the consequences to his actions or if she might slap him in return once awake, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against her own.

Just as she was to cry out in fear, she froze, caught between the nightmare and something else, the affects of the dark lord chasing her fading. What was strong enough to pull her back from Morgoth's grasp? Slowly making her way back to awareness, she realized two things; she wasn't dead, and second, the elf that had rescued her was very real, and using a rather unusual method to wake her.

She had seen humans do what they were doing now, but until now, she had never participated. Was she supposed to do something? Curious, but uncertain of what he wanted and how, she touched his wrist, alerting him that she was now awake. If she hadn't been so damn naive and inexperienced, he might have found the willpower to pull back, but her soft gasp of surprise when he nipped at her bottom lip, awakened something dangerously wild inside of him, and he had little choice but to kiss Alatáriel senseless, ridding her of any and every thought of Morgoth, the necklace, or any desire to leave him the first chance she got.

With great reluctance, he finally placed a safe amount of distance between them, sliding a strand of hair behind her ear before moving to the other side of the room. His entire body shook, craving something he didn't need to have, but damn the rules, and damn the consequences for wanting her. If she kept staring at him and touching her lip, he was going to throw everything aside, the mission, his honor, and take her that very moment.

None of these emotions showed on his face, his posture calm and patient. A soft knock on the door gave him a quick and necessary distraction. Exiting his room, he closed the door behind him, Tauriel staring at him with a mixture of shock and concern. "You're father..."

"I'm aware of my father's antics; I'll deal with it. Any news?"

"A legion of fowl creatures form at our borders, but they hesitate to enter. I think they're more afraid of the forest, than the one directing their actions. How long this will last, is uncertain. Why do they hunt you, Legolas?"

"Not me, but her." Tauriel's gaze drifted towards the door, frowning in disapproval. Anything that endangered Mirkwood was a threat in her eyes, but he didn't move, nor did he welcome her opinion if she had one. "As soon as she's strong enough, we'll take our leave."

"Was the last war not enough, Legolas? You left, to never return to Middle Earth, weary and exhausted from the toll your task had taken."

"A life of peace is not for one such as I. You're right, I've battled to long, seen too much, and this is far too important to ignore. Even now as we speak, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celebron are on the move towards Rivendelle."

"They return?" she gasped. Other than the elves of Mirkwood, she had thought all of them gone from Middle Earth. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I ask a favor." Tauriel already knew what it was, and she wanted to tell him no, but Legolas never asked anyone for anything, and to trust her with watching something he deemed important to him, was not only an honor, but his right as King Thranduil's son.

"Is protecting her worth the sacrifices you will endure?"

He thought of that, and finally he nodded, already walking away. He needed to talk to his father, and now that Alatáriel had awakened, he didn't have to worry about the nightmares or visions of a dark future. Sighing, she entered the room, halting for a moment at the sight before her. A single window from above, bathed the she-elf in moonlight, making her skin and hair glow like nothing Tauriel had ever witnessed before. Surely they obtained this kind of radiance when they called upon the star light to heal someone, but it didn't come naturally. Her green eyes were an unusual color for an elf, but not unheard of, at least for a high elf. She had thought them dead, though.

The woman still wore her travel clothes, in her hands a dress one of her guards had provided Legolas the night before. "I don't belong here," she finally spoke, feeling out of place in the presence of other elves, how to dress, and how to act. She knew the clothes of men, she fought like one, and she had terrible evil that threatened to harm them should they continue to shelter her.

Tauriel found it next to impossible to dislike her; she looked so lost and vulnerable, that she now saw the allure she presented towards Legolas, an impossible temptation for one as old as he. If she had been anyone else, more experienced, and aware of each of her actions, he'd have been able to ignore his attraction to her. It was her naive, innocence that drew him, like a moth to a flame, and Tauriel briefly smiled at the havoc this one she-elf would cause. Would Legolas finally defy his father for this one? She could only hope. If anyone deserved some form of happiness in life, it was Legolas; after everything he had done for Middle Earth and the Elven race...

"Do you have a name?"

"I believe it was Alatáriel." To not know who you are, or where you belong... Tauriel could think of no worse or cruel fate. Elves were highly cherished, especially a child; why had no one cared for this one? The name had no meaning to her, but she decided to do as she had promised and reached for the silken dress.

"May I?" Only a moment of hesitation and she nodded, allowing Tauriel to help her change into the long and heavy dress, nothing like the clothes she used to fight in. She instantly hated it, but her other clothes were stained, and torn. "Is it possible to find something a little less restricting?" she asked, wondering if she demanded to much. Tauriel understood, having no desire for such delicate or fine clothes herself.

"I will have something made for you." Alatáriel smiled, making her even more ethereal than when she had first walked in and saw her. "For now, should King Thranduil request your presence, will you allow that I fix your hair?"

"What's wrong with it?" Taking her hair into her hands, she stared at it, wondering why Tauriel needed to change it. Soft laughter had her blushing slightly; as if she had missed something that everyone else understood except for her.

"It simply needs a brush, and a few clips. I promise, you won't dislike it." If anything, she'd enjoy Legolas's reaction upon his return. Still, if her hunch was correct, King Thranduil would soon send an escort for her, not giving her much time to do what needed to be done. Alatáriel possessed so much hair, and it took time to rid her of the tangles, leaves, and dirt. Next, she added a few clips from her own hair, carefully placing it appropriately around her shoulders to where a few strands brushed against her necks.

"Captain Tauriel, the king requests the girl's presence."

Alatáriel had faced thousands of Orcs, and nothing scared her more than meeting someone so important as a king. What if they hated her? Would they blame her for her mother's death? She had never wanted answers to those questions, and she shook her head violently at Tauriel, pleading for something. Kneeling, she gently embraced the woman, surprised at how childlike she seemed, so afraid of the people she thought might reject her. "If you like, I will provide you an escort."

She preferred the other one, but she had no idea his name, or if she had the right to ask, so she finally took Tauriel's hand and took a deep breath. Despite how terrified she was, she'd refuse to show it to anyone as she followed the guards, Tauriel at her side. "You're doing this because he asked," Alatáriel finally spoke.

"Initially yes, but I believe it's not such a terrible task," she gently teased. Alatáriel had no concept of the allure she presented as she passed other elves, male and female alike. Legolas needed to make his intent for her extremely clear and soon, or others might assume she was available to pursue. More guards stood at the large, silver doors of the throne room, and the only indication that the sight frightened her, was the nails biting into Tauriel's arm. "Legolas won't let anyone hurt you; nor shall I?"

"Legolas?"

Pure amusement danced in Tauriel's brown eyes, and she had to force herself not to laugh. The guards seemed offended that the girl had no concept of whom she spoke with, but Tauriel gave them a quelling look, silencing any comment they might have made. "Perhaps I'll allow him the pleasure of fully introducing himself."

* * *

Legolas had spent the last hour talking to his father, explaining to him in detail about his return and why. The only thing he left out was Alatáriel's tie to Gil-galad, that knowledge better left a mystery unless directly asked. He'd never lie to King Thranduil, and it was entirely possible his father would notice her high elf features. The doors opened, and first entered Tauriel, closely followed by a sight that had him at a loss for words.

His gaze flew to Tauriel, and she smirked at him, clearly amused that the mighty, Prince Legolas appeared uncomfortable and agitated at the looks Alatáriel received from every male in the room, to include his father. King Thranduil rose from his throne, approaching Alatáriel with wide eyes. Very little phased him any longer, but something about Alatáriel had stirred long forgotten memories, and sadness with it. "I believe there is more to her than you first spoke of, Legolas."

"I only made reports of the facts as I know them, not an assumption."

"She is more than a Noldor Elf; true that she of Galadriel's line, but she is also of another, more pure elvish line. Do you have no memories of your origins, child?" Alatáriel shook her head, wishing that everyone would stop staring at her as if she were some lost treasure. "Any elf that had survived the first and second age wars, will know that the necklace around her neck is not of this realm, given to Gil-galad. Approximately, two thousand years ago, the necklace mysteriously vanished, and my theory is that it was given to her mother."

Alatáriel touched the object around her neck, hoping he'd not take it from her. As much as it drew darkness to her, it was also the only connection she had left to her mother. "Fear not child; the necklace only in the hands of Gil-galad or one of his own may control the power within."

"Then why do they try to kill me?" she blurted out. Several of the guards moved to correct her lack of respect, but a sharp command from three voices had them exiting the room.

"Morgoth is not of this realm, and therefore has a possibility of controlling the power you possess. However, if the legends of it are correct, then you're the last and only person that has that ability, and if he realizes this, then a quick death is a far better fate than what will happen should he manage to acquire you and the necklace together."

Glancing at his son; "Your task is not a simple one, and presents far more danger than the one against Sauron. Should you fail..." Legolas didn't need anyone to tell him; they all knew. Would Alatáriel accept his help, however? She looked torn, half wanting their help, and the other half wanting to run and spare them Morgoth's wrath. What she didn't understand; Morgoth hated the elves from their very creation, and how better to destroy them, then with a gift from the one that had created the elves to begin with.

"As much as I despise interfering in more war and death; there is no choice, but to honor Galadriel's and Celebron's request to help her." There was something else Thranduil wanted, but he'd leave that to his discussions with her kin; Legolas would only resist, and overwhelm Alatáriel further. Thranduil wanted only the best for his son, and should they manage to destroy or stop Morgoth, then Alatáriel was more than acceptable for a choice.

"I am allowing her access to the armory, weapons, and appropriate gear." Looking at Tauriel; "will you accompany them?"

"If you approve, then yes. Alatáriel is perhaps skilled in the ways of a sword, but she knows next to nothing of our kind, or how to be a woman. I think those lessons are just as important." King Thranduil did not think unkindly of Tauriel, and his approval of her was not disappointed.

Legolas had to agree about the armor; in her current state, he might have to kill the entire palace guard and replace them with females. As they left the throne room; Tauriel leaned close, so only that he heard what she had to say; "Do I warn them off," she giggled. "I'll admit, she's very desirable, and anyone would love to take her as a wife..."

"Utter one more word, and I'll seriously contemplate replacing you," Legolas hissed, his blue eyes blazing in fury. Tauriel simply laughed, and she danced away, leaving a very confused Alatáriel staring back at him. "You're angry."

"The fault is not your own, but mine for not taking this situation more seriously."

"I will not find fault if you should want to walk away." A part of her did want him to leave, afraid he'd suffer horribly, but he somehow saw through her, and closed the distance until he captured her face into his hands. "Did I not say this task is no longer yours to carry alone?"

"My mother... What if Morgoth..."

"I'm not letting him have you," he growled. Gathering her into his arms, he briefly held her, letting her tremble for a moment before she regained her composure and followed him to the armory. The moment she saw the swords and bows, all her fear vanished, and she circled each weapon to inspect it carefully. She valued this kind of thing more than a tea or social party. This was her solace, and he found he didn't mind. His life seemed to have a lot of danger, and anyone tied to him would face it as well. Better to have someone capable of defending themselves, than one that might end up like her mother.

"Take what ever you need," he offered.

"I can't..." she gasped, her eyes falling on one of the silver, star light bows. It had once belonged to the high elves, and he could think of no better long ranged weapon for her. Reaching up, he handed it to her, watching it glow the moment it came into physical contact with her.

"Now pick a sword; afterwards we'll find suitable armor."

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, unshed tears at the corners of her eyes.

"Is there a reason not to? I cannot repair the years of abandonment you must have felt, but I can only promise that it won't happen again."

"If I had returned, Morgoth would have acquired the necklace that much sooner; therefore I hold no blame against Galadriel or Celebron. This was my sacrifice and I ask that they honor what I have done rather than cast blame on themselves or each other." Legolas sighed; he had no choice at this point. He only hoped she'd agree or like him in return. After her, no one would ever awaken the fire she had stirred in his soul. She belonged to him, he knew this without a shadow of doubt, but did she feel the same? He'd have to show her, with patience, loyalty, and persistence. Reaching for the sword that went with the bow, he let her hold it, the weapon singing as if it were alive. "You truly are one of them..." he whispered, awed that someone like her could exist, and the thought that she might reject him proved rather painful.

"Legolas..." She reached up, and wiped away an unknown tear he had not been aware of shedding. "Have I done something wrong?"

He gave her a gentle smile, and in time he might tell her. But she needed to truly know and trust him before she had the ability to truly decide who she wanted. Legolas would never force such a choice on her.


End file.
